Heart Grows Fonder
by Laura D
Summary: Maybe I'll change the title later. This is my first and probably last attempt at RH fiction. Please be kind. Takes place during 7th year. Reviews, constructive criticism, etc, are always welcome.
1. One

Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rolwing. No copyright infringement is intended.****

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Chapter One.  
Insomnia (Makes the Heart Grow Fonder)  
  
"Hermione? What are you doing up?"  
  
Hermione looked up from her Potions book to see Ron Weasley entering the Gryffindor common room. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw that his shirt was not buttoned at all and she could see his remarkably well-defined abdominal muscles.  
  
'Shut up, Hermione,' a voice in her head said. 'He's your best friend.'  
  
Hermione yawned, ignored the voice, and said, "I couldn't sleep, so I decided I'd get a jump start on studying for that Potions test Snape's giving us."  
  
Ron sat down on the couch beside her and said, "That test isn't until next week! And tomorrow is Saturday; why are you studying on a Friday night?"  
  
"I told you, I couldn't sleep." Truth be told, she had been debating something with the voice inside her head, and she was studying to take her mind off of it. "And what are you doing awake anyway?"  
  
"Oh- umm… er- Neville was snoring, woke me up, couldn't get back to sleep, er- yeah."  
  
Ron flushed a deep crimson.  
  
"Whatever you say, Ron." Hermione yawned again.  
  
With that, Ron removed himself from the couch and stretched out on the floor in front of Hermione. In between sentences of her Potions book, Hermione noticed Ron's stomach. Again. Why had she never noticed his muscles? He couldn't have just sprouted them. Okay, maybe she'd noticed some changes in her feelings towards him back in 4th or 5th year, but he was just her best friend. ONLY her best friend. And one whom she'd known for seven years. She wasn't sure she could even imagine him … "that" way.  
  
Well, maybe she could …  
  
She completely abandoned any charade of reading her Potions book and, very obviously, took in his whole appearance. From his slightly disheveled mass of flaming red hair all the way down to his feet, lazily crossed at the ankles. She would admit; he was not- definitely not- bad looking. But he was still just Ron Weasley, the kid she'd met on the Hogwarts Express seven years ago.  
  
'Sure, rationalize all you want,' the voice inside her head said acidly.  
  
'I am not rationalizing,' Hermione argued with herself.  
  
Hermione laughed out loud at the stupidity of having a debate with her mind.  
  
This, of course, caused Ron to look at her strangely.   
  
He was glad when she shrugged and went back to studying. Although, he still thought she studied too much. But he was glad, nonetheless, that he could lay there in silence and observe her. She was fascinating. She could sit, studying, and still manage to look incredible. Her brown eyes flicked quickly across the page, absorbing the words. Her mass of curly brown hair was pulled loosely away from her face, but wisps of it kept falling out, into her face. After watching her try to restrain it for the billionth time, he said,  
  
"Hermione, you need a new hair band."  
  
Hermione looked up, shocked that he'd noticed her fiddling with her uncontrollable hair.   
  
"You, Mr. Weasley," she said, nudging him with her foot, "are supposed to be asleep."  
  
"As are you, Ms. Granger," Ron said with mock seriousness.  
  
Hermione looked up towards the dormitories. "I don't want to walk all the way upstairs …" she whined.  
  
"Well, neither do I," Ron said, folding his hands behind his head.  
  
"Then what do you propose we do?"  
  
Ron paused, a look of consideration on his face. "Just sleep down here." He looked very satisfied with himself.  
  
"On the floor."  
  
"Yes. On. The. Floor." He replied, mocking her.   
  
Pause. "All right."  
  
With that, Hermione got off the couch and lay down next to Ron on the floor.  
  
She was nowhere near as long as he was. Her feet were level with his, but the top of her head just barely grazed his chin.   
  
"Good night, Ron," she said, pulling up the blanket she'd gotten off the couch up around her shoulders.   
  
Ron found this extremely cute.  
  
"Night, Hermione," Ron said, wishing she'd share her blanket. He decided that he'd steal some when she fell asleep.  
  
Which, surprisingly, didn't take long.

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Author's Comments: Please review. Bear in mind that this is my first attempt, so please be gentle. Thank You in advance. 


	2. Two

Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form, J. K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Chapter Two.  
Two Different Versions of a Relatively Similar Dream: Part One-Ron**  
  
Ron awoke to someone's cold feet touching his.  
  
It took him a second to remember where he was and why he was there. He looked to his right and saw Hermione sprawled almost on top of him. Her arm was around his waist, her leg thrown across his legs, and her head was limiting the circulation to his forearm, as it was lying on his bicep, weighted with sleep.  
  
"Hermione … sweetie, you gotta get up, you're killing my arm …" he gently prodded her shoulder with his free hand.  
  
"No … five more minutes, mum," Hermione mumbled into his shoulder.  
  
'Five more minutes and there'll be no blood flow to my hand …' Ron thought.   
  
"No, you have to get up now," he said, lifting her head off of his arm and laying it gently on the floor.  
  
"Okay, I'm awake," she said, though her eyes were still closed.  
  
Ron laughed. She was so cute. "No you're not."  
  
"Yes I am."  
  
"No you're not!"  
  
"Argh! Why do we always end up fighting about the most stupid things?!" Hermione said, now fully awake.   
  
"I don't know," Ron said simply.  
  
With that, he gently brought his lips down to meet hers.  
  
Ron was so wrapped up in the kiss that he hadn't even noticed that they'd changed positions. He had somehow, he didn't know exactly how, rolled Hermione over so that she was on her back and he was hovering above her.  
  
"But I know I like making up the best," Ron grinned.  
  
"Mmm, me too."  
  
He kissed her again. It was fast becoming his favorite thing to do. It was second nature to him. Once he'd finally quit being so stubborn and admitted to himself that he had feelings for her, everything else just came naturally.  
  
His mind barely registered Hermione's hands raking their way through his bright red hair; it had become such a natural occurrence to him. His mind did, however, register the feeling of warm palms on the lower half of his back. And then their slow movement up his back to his shoulders, removing his shirt in the process.   
  
He, unwillingly, pulled away from Hermione, a question in his beautiful blue eyes.   
  
She merely smiled at him before pulling him down and kissing him again.  
  
He took this for what it was. It was only fair that if she were going to take his clothes off, she would have to lose some of hers. He smirked against her lips.  
  
She felt Ron's hands on the back of her waist, but, as with Ron, this feeling was a natural occurrence to her. There came a point in a relationship between two people when you were so comfortable with each other that physical contact was no longer something to react to; it was a constant in Ron and Hermione's relationship, that was for sure. Once they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other - and themselves, for that matter - they'd already built such a solid foundation of friendship that contact was only a natural step up.  
  
When she felt Ron's hands move to the front of her shirt, she became much more aware of him. Sure, they'd been together for a good while, but their relationship hadn't come to that point yet, or so she thought. She knew in her heart that she was ready, she'd been ready practically since they came to terms with their relationship and the course it was bound to take.   
  
And now, now that he was practically tearing her shirt off, she was sure that they were ready.  
  
Ron felt like he was dreaming, even though he knew he'd just woken up a few minutes ago. He'd been wondering when they'd reach this point in their relationship, practically before it had even started. That had been one of his major indicators of his feelings. Now that they were finally here, he knew there was no going back afterwards. He was just glad he loved her so much; he knew it would only cement their relationship that much further.  
  
He won the seemingly never-ending struggle with Hermione's flannel pajama shirt and was halfway into snogging her senseless -  
  
Ron awoke, and sat bolt upright, panting. 'Oh. Wow. Umm.' Even his mind couldn't come up with anything to say about that very vivid dream. He looked over at his sleeping best friend. Needless to say, he knew there were some underlying reasons as to why he'd had such a passionate dream about his best friend. But, of course, he barely admitted that to his own subconscious. And, needless to say, he'd been having those sorts of dreams often of late. And, needless to say, they made him quite happy.  
  
He felt a blush creep up his neck and could only hope that just how happy he was became less apparent before she woke up.

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Author's Comments: Again, please review. 


	3. Three

Disclaimer: Again, I'm not J. K. Rowling. And I am not trying to be by writing this story. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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Chapter Three.  
Two Different Versions of a Relatively Similar Dream: Part Two-Hermione**  
  
Hermione awoke to someone gently kissing her forehead. She knew it was Ron - that was something that only he would do. So much emotion could be conveyed in one simple, innocent kiss.   
  
She smiled at him, though her eyes remained closed. She wished they could stay in this embrace, this close proximity, for a long time. She wasn't thinking about forever yet.   
  
"Good morning, beautiful," she heard him say.   
  
"Good morning to you, too."  
  
Silence. Comfortable silence was something that had been happening recently in their relationship. They knew each other well enough that they could have the best conversations when neither of them said a word.  
  
"Did you sleep well?" she asked him after a while.   
  
"Wonderfully. Except I had this wonky lump next to me. I wonder … whatever could it be?" He started poking her around the ribs.  
  
"No! Stop!" She knew how ticklish she was. She knew he knew how ticklish she was, too. He always used it to get the better of her.  
  
He always did something like that: say something completely endearing, then turn and be completely silly. She loved that about him. He always knew how to make her laugh.  
  
When she'd finally surrendered to the feelings she knew had been coming for a long time, she knew that he was the only one she'd ever want to wake up next to.  
  
Eventually, when she was almost in tears from laughing so hard, their laughter died away and they resorted to what they knew as second nature: kissing. It wasn't just kissing for the sake of kissing, it was more than that.   
  
They took a break from each other and just lay in silence. Ron's arm was around her waist, and her head was resting comfortably on his shoulder. His hand was making its way lazily through her hair.  
  
"I love you," she heard him whisper.  
  
She sat up on her elbow and looked him directly in the face. "What?"  
  
"I said I love you," Ron said simply.  
  
Hermione stared blankly at him for a second or two before her brain reacted. She could feel tears brimming behind her eyes, but she was determined not to let them fall before she responded.   
  
"I love you, too. So much," she said.   
  
With that, Ron arched his neck up and captured her lips with his own. She was so filled with happiness that she wanted to cry yet again. The one person she'd ever felt this way about felt the same way about her. On some level, she supposed she'd known for a while, and that he was just working up the courage to say it and ensure a return, but hearing it for real was more beautiful than she ever could have imagined.   
  
In the middle of what was quite possibly their most romantic kiss ever, Hermione had to pull away to wipe her tears. Ron's hand reached up and cupped her face, doing the job for her.  
  
"Please tell me these are happy tears," he said, searching her face for a reason.  
  
"The happiest tears ever," she said, a smile shining through her tears of joy.  
  
"Good," he said, wiping her eyes gently with his thumb. He smiled and brought his face to hers for another kiss.   
  
She smiled against his mouth and let him change their position. She let herself be rolled over so that she was practically on top of him, and then be rolled the opposite way to where he was suspended above her. Her hands roamed over his body, concentrating on his back. She knew he loved that. She smiled when he let out a low moan into her mouth. The removal of his shirt only made him moan more.   
  
Hermione opened her eyes and saw the Gryffindor Common Room ceiling above her. Not Ron, just the high ceiling staring back at her.  
  
She put her hand over her eyes and tried to remember how she could've come up with such a random topic to dream about. Alright, maybe not so random; she'd just been admiring Ron's physique, and how he had changed over the course of their friendship, last night. And being in such close proximity to him, as she was right now, always had a strange effect on her: butterflies, flustered speech, etc, but never fantasizing or dreaming about what it would be like to be with him, to kiss him.   
  
Until now.   
  
She looked to her left, and saw Ron asleep, facing away from her. She sighed, realized that he'd stolen her blanket, and tried to pinpoint exactly when it was that she'd developed full-on feelings for her best friend.


End file.
